


Little Do You Know

by Pennstram



Series: Timeline 41 [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Bottom Eliot Waugh, Eliot’s bad coping mechanisms, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, M/M, Panic Attacks, The timeline that never happened, Top Quentin Coldwater, canon alcoholism, canon depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennstram/pseuds/Pennstram
Summary: He drank an entire bottle of wine that night.A snapshot of the future breezed over in my other mosaic timeline fic. Essentially the softest porn filled with feelings. I’m probably going to keep writing in this timeline because I love it so much
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Timeline 41 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593661
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Little Do You Know

**Author's Note:**

> I'll wait, just wait  
> I love you like I've never felt the pain, just wait  
> I love you like I've never been afraid, just wait  
> Our love is here, and here to stay  
> So lay your head on me  
> \- Little do you know  
> Alex & Sierra
> 
> I highly recommend listening to it at least once while reading, it was the main source of inspiration.

He drank an entire bottle of wine that night. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if Quentin got upset he started drinking again. He didn’t care, because Quentin didn’t care. 

Eliot slammed the now empty bottle on the only table still standing. He grabbed another out of a cabinet, for emergencies they had agreed when they bought the four bottles. This damn well felt like an emergency. Tears poured down his face as he slowly picked up the shattered glass with shaking hands. 

The glass Quentin has thrown at him. _“It’s all your fault!”_ Q had screamed at him, throwing everything he could get his hands on. Glasses and books, the table and chairs. Eliot’s eyes caught the light glint of pink on the floor and with a quiet sob he sunk to his knees. Picking up the smooth quartz he finally let himself go. 

He downed half the new bottle in one long gulp. 

——  
“Where are you doing?” Eliot demanded as Quentin threw Teddy’s clothing in a deep canvas bag. His partners eyes were cold and hard as steel as he continued. Slamming the flap shut he ripped it off the big bed and swung it violently over his shoulder. “Q.” 

Quentin spun around and snarled, “I’m taking Teddy to Mary’s. I don’t want him around here right now.” _Around you._ It went unsaid but Eliot could hear it in the venom of Quentin’s voice. It stung. A wound left to fester that Eliot knew he could never fix. 

His arms wrapped loosely around his middle, a defensive action he’d used since he was a young boy. “Q, we need to talk about this.” And then the bag was crashing to the floor and the table was thrown against the wall. 

“No!” Quentin screamed, “No. you don’t get to tell me to talk. You don’t get to tell me how to react.” He kicked a chair, splintering it without a care as Eliot flinched back. “It’s all your fucking fault, Eliot! She left because of you!” He grabbed the first thing he could, a delicate wine glass he’d bought Eliot during their second year here, and threw it. 

The sound of shattering glass rang clear in their hut. Eliot had stood frozen in shock as it smashed on the wall by his head. He knew Quentin wanted to hurt him. By words and actions, but he would never physically hurt him. Not since that first time. But he knew just what to say to destroy him. “Did you read what she said? That I could never love her like I do you. It’s bullshit! I fucking hate you! You’ve ruined my life, Eliot.” 

Quentin yanked the bag off the ground and stormed out the door. Slamming it with extra force, that had it not been enchanted it would have shattered like the rest of their precious home. Around him glass shattered where it rested, but Eliot couldn’t hear it anymore. 

The world seemed to narrow around him and Eliot felt his stomach turn to ice. His hands shook and his vision blurred. He figured it was the tears, he had to have been crying but he couldn’t feel it. He felt nothing but the raw emptiness in his chest. He staggered to his feet, head and vision swimming.

He couldn’t feel a god damn thing. It was as if he was watching his own body lurch for the wine cabinet. It felt like it wasn’t even his body anymore. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe his whole being belonged to Quentin and the life they had foraged. Maybe Quentin leaving had severed the ties he had to it. His throat closed on itself and he couldn’t breathe. 

_“You ruined my life.”_

He knows; he ruined his own too. 

He knew the alcohol must have burned as he drank. 2 1/2 years he hadn’t had a single drink but he knew the feeling. He thought he could do it. He thought he finally had a reason. Yet he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t feel the burning, the following numbness. He didn’t feel a thing. He picked himself up off the ground and fell on the bed. Their bed. He couldn’t feel a god damn thing. 

And he sobbed.  
——

It was getting dark as Eliot was finally able to get up again, pocketing the stone, the second bottle empty at his feet and the third in his hand. His eyes stung as he slowly blinked around the crumpled remains of his life. He couldn’t do it. He knew he should clean up, he just couldn’t right now. A half step toward the bed again before he froze. 

No. That’s where their happiness was. He didn’t deserve the warmth and happiness. With shaking steps he went to the door, pausing with his palm pressed flat against it. His hand was trembling and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the anxiety. He pressed his forehead to the wood as a sob ripped from his throat. He did do this. It was his fault Quentin never really gave his marriage 100 percent. 

He should have backed off as soon as the two got together. But Eliot Waugh is selfish. He had the life that finally made him whole. He didn’t want to give that up, so he didn’t. He held a special part of Quentin’s heart, just for himself. He took and took and took. He didn’t give a shit about what Arielle got. 

Eliot Waugh was selfish, and it lost him everything. 

The night air was chilled on his overheated flesh as he stumbled out onto their greatest failure to date. The mosaic seemed to taunt and mock him as he sunk to the ground. He perched on the lip and pressed the wine bottle to his mouth again. The nothingness was slowly giving way to numbness as he sat there and drank. At least it was something. He’d lived with numbness before. It was nothing new. 

He could do it again. 

The bottle seemed to slip from his grasp and Eliot braced himself for the shattering of glass, but it never came. With unforced eyes and a knit brow he dropped his gaze to the ground in front of himself, no wine bottle was there. Instead a pair of shoes broke the frame. He looked up slowly and found the bottle cradled in gentle hands. 

His eyes met Quentin’s and instantly a hot rush of shame washed over him. “What’re you doing?” He rasped out, hands clenching together with a lack of anything better to do. Quentin sighed and the tension and pent up anger seemed to bleed out of him. “Need that—“

He sat down beside Eliot and just stared at the near empty bottle. “I’m to blame for this...” he didn’t specifically say it out loud but Eliot knew. Aggressively shaking his head, Eliot wrapped one hand around the bottle neck, on top of Quentin’s. 

“Did it to myself.” He murmured, watching the dark liquid move in waves. He could feel Quentin’s gaze on him. Could feel it melting the ice away but he still couldn’t. “I deserved it. I deserve whatever poisoning I get. I deserve it to kill me.” 

“El—“ Quentin started but Eliot held his hand up to stop him. He shook his head slowly, feeling the lump form in his throat. No, he had to say it now before he never could. 

“Just— let me talk, Quentin. Please.” He chanced a look up and he could see the sadness and exhaustion mirrored on his partners face. “I need to do this.” _Before I freak out and bury it forever._ “You were right.” He let go of the bottle and spread his hands out palms up. He swallowed roughly before continuing quietly, “I ruined everything for you.”

“I’m possessive and needy and selfish, and I never gave a single shit about what Arielle wanted. I wanted, I want, you. All of you and I didn’t care if I hurt her taking it. I am the reason she left. I’ll always be the reason you’re stuck.” He rolled his fingers up and reached into his pocket with his right hand. “I’ll always be the reason people leave.” 

The rose quartz rolled over his hand as he pulled it out and held it toward Quentin. “I don’t think this works. Maybe my life is too fucked up for it to. Maybe I’m just beyond help at this point.” He felt his throat tightening and his hands shook. The quartz fell to the ground with a faint think. He wanted to run. To down the rest of the bottle and just forget. “I’m keeping you from living your fullest life, Q. I’m holding you back from being happy. And I-“ he broke off as a sob broke through. 

“I’m sorry. It would’ve been better for everyone if I’d have died of alcohol poisoning earlier on.” 

Quentin’s hand wrapped around his, the one that had been holding the stone. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say that, Eliot Waugh.” There was a fierceness to his tone that was present earlier, but this time it was holding him together instead of tearing him apart. “Yeah, you’re right. You are selfish, and needy and demanding.” Eliot glanced over at him in resigned confusion. “But fuck, El, so am I.”

He pulled Eliot to his chest and wrapped gentle arms around his shaking body. “I thought a lot about what Arielle said before and in that letter. And she’s right. I am so overly attached to you. Because you’re my best friend. My life partner. You’ve always been my reason, the question and the answer.” He pressed his face into Eliot’s hair right behind his ear and pressed a soft kiss there. 

Eliot’s hands gripped his back as if he was afraid Quentin would slip away again, tears stung his eyes and the cold weight in his stomach melted away. “I could never love anyone more than you, El, because you already have all of me.” 

Tears stained Quentin’s shirt and Eliot new he was sobbing again even before any sound made it out. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry.” He whispered, over and over, hoping eventually Quentin would understand. As the wine bottle was knocked away Eliot knew he did. 

Quentin pressed his hands to Eliot’s face and brought their foreheads together. Tear streaks, bloodshot eyes and red cheeks. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Something ugly was brought out of the younger magician today and it broke his heart to see what it did to his beloved. “I’m sorry, Eliot.” It was barely there, a breathed caress of remorse before he brought their lips together. 

He tasted of alcohol and plums and something so uniquely Eliot that Quentin just pulled him closer. It was slow and desperately caring. Every feeling was poured from one to the other, need, fear, devotion, love. A soft whine from the back of Eliot’s throat had Quentin smiling into the kiss. 

He pulled away, intent on making sure Eliot was alright, but the other merely chased the contact. His hands folding themselves into Quentin’s shirt and keeping him there in Eliot’s space. “You sure, El? I don’t want-“

“If you say ‘to push you’ I will castrate you, Q.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Quentin’s mouth before pressing his forehead to the others shoulder. “How did this happen? How did we let _us_ get this bad Q?” 

Gentle hands ran down his spine, and Quentin sighed, “I focused on something I wasn’t. Something I didn’t want and forgot about what I did.” He pressed his lips to Eliot’s temple and brushed back his unruly curls. “I thought I had to give you up to be happy and it just made us more miserable.” 

Quentin moved just a bit and suddenly a soft warmth enveloped Eliot’s body. The quilt tucked around him as Quentin returned to wrap his arms around him. “I was an idiot, El.” A kiss on Eliot’s neck. “I never wanted to hurt you like this.” A kiss behind his ear, then on his cheek. Eliot could feel the numbness warm and tingle under Quentin’s gentle kisses and his heart seemed to lodge itself in his throat. 

Finally Quentin hovered over his lips, eyes smoldering over with the heat of it. “I want to make it right, Eliot.” A quick press of their mouths, “Let me make it right to you.” It was breathed into Eliot’s mouth, their lips barely brushing and he couldn’t help it. He surged forward and knocked Quentin onto his back with a surprised yelp. 

Straddling his waist Quentin was a solid warmth beneath him and Eliot craved it. The feeling. Knowing he was there, and being able to feel it. He brought them back together with a bitten back sob. He had almost lost this. Them. His hands rucked up Quentin’s shirt along the side and as skin met skin the damn broke. 

Quentin’s hands gently cupped his face, brushing the tears away as he murmured softly, “I’ve got you, Eliot. I’ve got you.” And his arms slid around Eliot’s waist, holding him close as he wrapped his fingers around the quilt now pooled around Eliot’s hips. He untangled their limbs quickly and shh’d gently at the panicked whine rising in Eliot’s throat. 

_I’ve got you._

The quilt was laid out neatly behind them and Quentin wrapped him in warmth again. He slowly coaxed Eliot to lay back, his hands traveling down the older magician’s sides throughout. He leaned over and pressed their lips together. “I’m going undress you now, alright? I’ve got you, beloved.” 

He didn’t really wait for an answer before moving to pull the worn tunic over Eliot’s head. As more skin was exposed, Quentin pressed feather light kisses along it. In the dip of his throat, along each collar bone, above his heart. His hands moved down to follow his path of devotion. A press to his sternum, above his bellybutton, to each exposed hip bone. Quentin whispered soft words of love with each kiss. 

Eliot was— a mess. He tangled one hand in Quentin’s hair, biting the other to quite his choked out whines. Quentin pressed a final kiss right above Eliot’s waistband and looked up through his lashes. “I’m not cheating this time, El. I want to love you right this time. Let me take care of you.” Then he slipped the waistband over Eliot’s hips, and Eliot’s body was on fire. 

The words soaked in through his wine dampened state. He sucked in a desperate breath as his body arched up to follow the heat of Quentin’s hands and mouth. A breathy keen and he gave up trying to stop the sounds. “Q—Quentin, I cant. I can’t... need you to—“ it was broken off with a soft cry as Quentin’s hand wrapped around him. 

_I’ve got you._

Eliot let go with that single thought echoing in his mind. Quentin was here. Quentin would take care of him. His legs were exposed to the night air soon after. Reverent kisses were placed on his thighs, the sides his knees, his ankles. Down one leg, and up the other. _Let me take care of you._ It was breathed into his very soul. 

One final kiss was placed on the head of his cock before Quentin was gently urging him to roll over. All of Eliot’s nerve endings were on fire. He couldn’t disagree if he’d wanted too, and God he didn’t want too. His back was given the same devoted treatment as Quentin started placing barely there kisses on the back of his neck, his shoulder blades, the small of his back. 

Teasing hands pressed against his ass and soft lips pressed to his thighs, the backs of his knees. The hands left long enough to run down his legs so Quentin could reach the soles of his feet. Quentin trailed his fingertips back up to tenderly spread Eliot’s cheeks and Eliot in turn buried his face in the quilt. His ears burned and he knew his face was bright red as he panted into the fabric. 

He desperately needed friction on his cock. Needed the caresses to stop. He was overstimulated and wanting by the time Quentin pressed a final kiss to his hole. Eliot cried out then, a burning choked out sound that went right to Quentin’s dick. He smiled against the pale flesh and pressed his lips to the cheek, eyes fond as he watched his partner squirm above him. 

“It’s been so long, El.” 

And it had been so very long since the two were able to just be together. Together in such an intimate way. A finger tentatively pressed into him and Eliot sighed out contentedly. It was a steady, slow rhythm. One their body’s knew so well, yet not at all. A deep press in, a kiss to Eliot’s hip, and a slow pull out. Over and over and soon it just wasn’t enough. He tried to make Quentin go faster, harder, more. Anything.

He didn’t. Instead he kept up this gentle loving pace. Finally a second finger slipped in along the first. Eliot was so far gone he almost didn’t realize it until Quentin crooked his fingers in just the right way. And he cried out, hands scrabbling to find skin, something, anything of Quentin’s he could. A gentle hand twined with his and he panted out into the quilt. A self satisfied smile curling his lips. 

In, kiss, out. Deep push in, butterfly kiss on overheated skin, slow drag out. A third finger added and Eliot couldn’t take it anymore as he sobbed into the mosaic ground. He was on fire. Engulfed in the bright need. To be whole and loved for all that he was. To be cared for and thought of. To be taken in and made new. His heart ached and he could feel the alcohol wearing off as his buzz ebbed away. 

He was crashing from the wine, and soaring from the contact of overheated skin. The dips and pulls tearing him in every direction. Pulling him apart molecule by molecule. Only for careful calloused hands to expertly mend him back together again. 

Then Quentin was pressing inside him. Stretching and setting his skin alight as he pushed in the last bit. Eliot’s exposed ass flush against Quentin’s skin. Lips were pressed against the back of his neck and that same gentle rhythm returned. In so deep, a long suck on his neck, a slow pull back. Never all the way out, never loosing contact, but enough to impact the next push in. 

Eliot cold do nothing but take all Quentin gave him. The steady love making causing his whole being to sing. Every atom alight and basking in the love freely given. With an effort he didn’t know he possessed in the moment, Eliot maneuvered onto his back as Quentin pulled slowly out. _Need to see you._ He gasped, finally, _finally,_ getting his hands Q’s hair and pulling him down for a rough kiss. 

He wasn’t sure the words ever made it out. He didn’t care because he knew. Quentin _knew._ He felt it in the same burning way Eliot did. Deep in his gut and overflowing it their hearts. The sparking of pure magical energy between them. 

When they pulled apart again, eyes half lidded, both panting hard as Quentin bottomed out again, Eliot sighed contented. A smile warmed Quentin’s face at the sound. Eliot wrapped one long leg around Quentin’s waist and tipped his head back with a truly filthy moan. The steady assault to his prostate was doing wonderful things but it wasn’t enough. It was too much and yet not fucking enough. 

With the last ditch effort, Eliot pushed himself up and found himself sitting snuggly in Quentin’s lap. His head dropped onto the younger’s shoulder and they just breathed. This. This is what they needed. The closeness. The intimacy. Eliot leaned his head to press his cheek to the warm skin. It burned at all points of contact, but it still wasn’t enough. Lips pressed to Quentin’s neck, a soft contact that remained as Eliot rolled his hips forward. 

Deeper, steadier, Quentin bit back a desperate moan as Eliot rode him, slow and devoted. Long, elegant fingers cupped his neck and brushed through his hair as Eliot breathed against Quentin’s neck. His movements never faltered, even as he pulled off just so to shove back down. Even as his breath caught and Quentin shuttered under him, his hands gripping Eliot’s waist like he was afraid he’d slip away. 

Maybe he would have, once upon a time, but here, now, he couldn’t fathom it. Eliot sunk down and stilled, just feeling. The delicious stretch and burn of Quentin’s cock inside him. The gentle yet possessive grip on his waist, the thumbs rubbing small circles against his hip bones. The intensity of the love shining in Quentin’s eyes. 

Eliot choked on a sob as he ground against Quentin, the other surging forward to swallow down the sound. As if he could take away all the hurt with one kiss. His hand moved from Eliot’s hip to wrap around his cock. It was enough to set him a flame. Eliot rocked back almost desperately before taking Quentin back in, quick, rough, and demanding. 

So different from the rest of the evening, but oh so much the same. They moved together in a rhythm that was entirely their own. A dance their bodies remembered long after their minds forgot. 

Eliot crying out and arching his back as Quentin’s lips closed around his nipple at the same time as he hit his prostate. Eliot grinding down, taking Quentin in as deep as he could before spilling over both of them as he came. Eliot in complete control even as Quentin groaned and came deep inside him. Eliot taking and taking and taking, fucking himself on Quentin’s softening cock, both of them terribly overstimulated but neither caring. 

Both of them panting in the space between them. The air hot and heavy and full of promise. The world seemed to spin as Eliot slumped against his partner and the blur of the day caught up to him. Quentin’s warm hands trailed up and down his spine. His mouth was dry and the quilt was wet where the wine must have been knocked over, and they were _disgusting,_ covered in dirt and sweat and cum, yet Eliot didn’t care. 

He curled into Quentin’s chest with a long sigh. A mere release of all the tension that seemed to have built between them throughout the day. Eliot was vaguely aware of Quentin still inside him, but that was another thing he just didn’t care about. Soft murmured words of love and praise and affection were mouthed and breathed into his skin, and Eliot basked in it. Eventually they’d have to move. To talk about this, and them, and what was to happen. 

For now though, _Eliot didn’t care._

**Author's Note:**

> So lay your head on me  
> 'Cause little do you know  
> I love you 'til the sun dies


End file.
